


don't think that way

by erintoknow



Series: Aria [7]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Female Friendship, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 05:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: You just want to be able to fit in. To pass for normal.But it's not going to happen.Not even here.





	don't think that way

**Author's Note:**

> [[Paranoiac Intervals/Body Dysmorphia]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VwYiB4XPRiM)

“Sidestep! What are you doing here? There’s no emergency going on.”

“I just… I want to be ready?”

Anathema gives you a skeptical look, a smile tugging at their face. “Uh-huh.”

It’s been sitting at over a hundred degrees for the better part a week now, and even the super villains are staying indoors in front of their A/C units. That has nothing to do with why you’re planning to hang out at the Ranger’s HQ all day, of course. The presence of working air conditioning… is completely incidental.

You tug at the elastic of your face mask, willing the cool air to filter in faster. “Is that… is that okay?”

Anathema shrugs, “Steel just left to do a patrol, if that’s what you’re asking.” She moves to pat you on the shoulder, then hesitates seeing you already stepping back out of reach. “Sorry, I forgot.”

Thank god for masks. “Y-you’re fine.” You give her a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about it.”

Anathema gets you past the front desk; “She’s with me, Sarah!” and the two of you weave your way through the hallways of the building until you end up at Anathema’s office. Anathema motions for to grab a seat while she pulls up to her own desk. “Sorry, I was coming in to catch up on paperwork today. Not very exciting, I know, but it has to get done.”

You tilt your head, “You have to do paperwork?”

“Yeah… incident reports, give our accounts of how things went down, that kind of thing.” Anathema shrugs, leafing through a pile a folders and loose paper on the desk. “I don’t think most of it ever gets seen again? Not unless there’s a dispute, like someone rich gets a bee up their bonnet about property damage.” She looks up and waggles her fingers at you. “These babies are rated as lethal weapons you know.”

You laugh at that, “Well, I don’t want to distract you…” You scratch at your face. “Am I allowed to just, uh, look around? Maybe there’s a break room or something I can just… chill at?” This isn’t your first time inside the Ranger Headquarters, but there’s always been some pressing emergency to justify being here. You’ve never just… hung out before. It’s weird. Makes you feel weird. Why did you choose to come here again?

Anathema gives you a grin, “Probably not, but I won’t tell if you wont. If you go down this hall, take a right, there’s a break room with snacks and coffee at the end. I’ll catch up to you when I can.”

You tilt your head forward to approximate a smile. “Thanks Ana.”

“Themmy.”

“H-huh?” You rub the back of neck, anxiety creeping up over you. Did you misstep somewhere?

“If we’re doing nicknames I’d rather go by Themmy.”

“Oh. Oh, sure. Sorry, Themmy.”

Anathema smiles again before turning to back to her desk. “Don’t sweat it Sidestep.”

You take the shift in her focus as permission to head out. Finding the break room doesn’t take long, despite your temptation to linger and snoop around. You want to stay on the Rangers’ good side after all.

Speaking of good side… the first thing you see on entering the break room is an old off-white refrigerator humming in the corner. Themmy did say there were snacks… Suddenly your stomach is very insistent on reminding you that you haven’t eat yet today. “Alright fine, you dumb thing,” you mutter to yourself as you go rooting through the room. Just something small to tide you over, that won’t be missed. There, a box of snack bars, not in the fridge but the cabinet beside it. One little bar won’t matter to them right? They’re all rich anyway.

You roll up your mask just enough to be able to take a bite and try to swallow down your guilt. Turn your focus to the rest of the room. From the window you can look down and see the street below, busy with very important looking people all on their way from one place or another. For a moment you’re tempted to reach down and read some of them, but the desire passes. They aren’t a threat, you have to remind yourself, there’s nothing you need there.

One entire wall is taken up by a huge piece of framed cork board. Notices of varying age and relevancy are posted, notes to other Rangers. You’ve met most of them at least once now. It still doesn’t feel real, having them treat you as… well, not an equal exactly, but human certainly. They have no idea what you really are. There’s a kind of rush to it, flirting with disaster like this.

You frown, shift focus to avoid the guilt. Take another bite of the snack bar. Not as sweet as you’d like, but beggars are never choosers. One corner of the board has a collection of pinned photos. No masks, no uniforms or costumes. No one you recognize. Smiling faces, children, older adults, the parents? A little girl is in the middle of blowing out candles on a cake.

You grip your arm with your free hand as you finish the snack bar. You want to touch the picture, look at it closer, but it– it feels like there’s a wall between you. This isn’t a world you have any business being a part of. Something you’ve never had. Will never have.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

You jump, nearly drop the bar in your hand. How the heck did someone sneak up on you? Turn and– oh. It’s Charge. You step back and watch her as the woman saunters into the room with all the confidence of someone that knows exactly where she belongs.

“That’s my niece. Well, one of them? The family’s kind of huge, honestly.” She rubs the back of her neck and smiles at you.

Your heart’s still pounding from the surprise. You need to give some sort of response. Look normal. “Y-your relative, Charge?” Idiot, she just said it was her niece.

Charge keeps smiling though. “Yeah, I’m glad I was able to make it to the party this year.” The smile turns awkward as she shifts to look at the floor for a second before going back to you. “It can be hard to make time for family in this job, you know?”

“I– I guess.” Something about being around Charge makes you nervous, and sometimes the best thing for nerves is to take the offensive. “You kind of sound like an old woman, saying that.”

That gets a groan out of her, “Hey! I’ll have you know I’m 26.”

“That’s old.” You turn your head to look at her. For a moment you’d swear her eyes dart down to look at you mouth. That’s absurd though. Still, you tug your mask back down.

“Whatever.” She frowns, and shakes her head. Clearing out thoughts? Who knows. Every time you try to read her mind you get crackles of static and nonsense. Yet another thing about Charge that unsettles you. “Anathema mentioned you were here so I just thought I’d check up on things.”

You tilt your head. “You’re chaperoning me.”

She winces, holds out her hands as if to say ‘you’ve got me.’ “It’s not like I don’t trust you Sidestep, I do. But–”

“It’s fine.” You say, cutting her off and turn back to the bulletin board. “Are all these pictures of your family?”

That gets a laugh from her. “No. There _are_ other members of the Rangers believe or not.” She hesitates for a moment before adding, “I do probably have the most pictures though.

“Don’t you uh, have an office?”

“Oh, I’ve got pictures there too.”

You feel weird, standing here, in a way you can’t quite grasp. Like there’s some obvious secret in plain sight but you can’t even see it, touch it. Only the effects of its gravity. You try to focus on the board instead. “What’s this about?” You point at one picture, it’s just someone’s arm wrapped in a cast.

Charge rubs the back of her neck once she sees what you’re pointing at. “Oh that’s one me actually. First time I broke a bone.”

“You put up a picture of you breaking a _bone_?”

Charge doesn’t look at you. “It’s a good reminder.”

“Huh? Reminder of what?”

Charge walks past you to take a seat at the table under the window. “Okay, well, there was this tree–”

“Hey Ortega, found our guest, huh?” Anathema gives you a small wave, which you carefully return. Maybe you should have warned Charge Anathema was coming?

Nah.

“Taking a break already, Themmy?”

Anathema touches a hand to her chest as she moves for the coffee machine. “Me? Take a break? You wound me.” She leans on the counter as the machine warms up. “Did I interrupt anything?”

You shake your head. “Charge was just starting to tell me about the first time they broke a bone…?”

Anathema looks thoughtful, then grins. “Ah, _that_ story. Let me save you some time then. Our brave child marshal climbed to the top of a tree taller then her house and then jumped to the ground just to prove she could do it.”

You glance at Charge, surprised? Concerned? Why? She’s clearly still alive. “Wow.”

Charge leans back in her seat. “Don’t tell me not to do something, Sidestep, that’s just daring me to prove it wrong.” She laughs. “Man, I was so dumb. I’m lucky it was just the one arm I broke, I certainly deserved worse for pulling a dumb stunt like that. I got grounded for months afterwards.”

“Grounded?”

“Uh, yeah.” Charge rubs the back of her neck again. “No friends over either. Just stuck indoors with…” She makes a face. “Whatever, doesn’t matter.”

You glance at Anathema. Did you make Charge uncomfortable? There’s that weird tension in the air again. You aren’t just imagining it, right? A… normal person could ease things by sharing their own, similar story, but– You’re not playing a role here, you don’t have anything like that prepared.

Anathema claps her hands together. “Don’t mind her, Charge loves telling this story. She’s just mad I stole the thunder this time.”

Charge shoots a look at Anathema. “Maybe I should fill Sidestep in on Princess Starshine.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Anathema groans. “Damn, I regret ever telling you that story, I’m never going to live it down.”

Charge smirks at you, “_Someone_ pulled a fast one on their parents for Halloween one year.”

“Charge. Please.” You look between the two of them, only relaxing when they both burst out laughing.

You chew your lip while the two of them chatter with each other. Maybe you could… adapt something? When the conversation lulls you take the chance to cut in. “Uh, that reminds me of when…” You trail off, thinking. How do you frame this?

Charge perks up, and leans forwards in her seat. “Oh, a Sidestep story? This is rare.”

“Don’t tease her Ortega.”

“Okay so,” you begin, speaking slowly as you pick your words. “We always had to… be in bed by curfew, right?”

“Yeah?” Charge nods for you to continue. Good, so that sounds like a normal person thing. You’ve got this then.

“Well, I would always sneak out once no one was watching so I could hang out in the, uh, the library. Until–”

“You snuck out at night so you could _read books_?” Charge asks, incredulous.

“Your parents kept a library?” Anathema looks at you, curious.

You flinch. Just finish the story, you can do this. “Y-yeah, well. I liked the history books.”

“Knew you were a nerd.” Charge whispers.

It’s not much of a death glare when your face is covered. “Shut up.”

You take a breath. “Anyway, I got caught eventually, and…” You put a hand over your mouth, laughing nervously. “Man, I think at least half the beating was just because I did such a shitty job of lying about it.” You add a mocking tone to your voice, “Yes sir, I just got lost looking for the bathroom and tripped into this pile of books on Ancient Greece. Pfffft.” You pull your arms tight against you as you look at the floor. You laugh to yourself again. The air in the room has turned sour but you keep talking, helpless to stop yourself. “I had bruises for months after that. But like you said,” you gesture in Charge’s direction, “it was pretty dumb of me, I deserved way worse than what I got.” As you finish talking it feels like your words are dissolving into empty air.

When neither Charge or Anathema say anything you tense up. You did what you’re supposed to in this kind of interaction, right? Did you give yourself away? You have to make yourself look up, reach out to get a sense of what Anathema at least is thinking. “Um…”

Anathema and Charge exchange glances. Charge looks stricken.

You dig your nails into your arm. “What? What’s wrong?”

Charge speaks first, hand half extended towards you. “Are you… okay?”

“I– I– I’m fine?” You voice breaks, panic rising up. “Why are you asking?”

“Sidestep…” Anathema’s voice is more careful than Charge. “Do you still… live with this person?”

“W-what? No it’s– it’s not what you think–” You just wanted to join in, not this: the way they’re looking at you… They’ll know, they’ll figure it out. They’ll figure it out and it’ll be over for you. Shit. Shit. Shit. You step backwards towards the hallway. “I– I should, I should go. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Charge stands up at of her chair, “Sidestep, wait–”

You don’t wait to hear the rest of the sentence. You take off down the hallway. Follow the path back out, don’t even acknowledge the receptionist. You need to _go_.

* * *

By the time you stop running you’ve managed to put several blocks between you and the Rangers, hiding a story up in the fire escape for a boutique shop. You slam a fist against the metal railing. Damn it! You ruined your chances with the Rangers. You’ll have to avoid them from now on. Maybe you should just skip town entirely? Being a vigilante already effectively cost you Chelsea, if you can’t even manage not to fuck that up maybe you should just give up altogether. The spotlight isn’t where something like you belongs anyway.

“Sidestep!” The name gets you attention and you look down into the alleyway, ready for a fight. If a drug dealer thinks they’re going to get back at you today, they’re going to regret it.

It’s not a drug dealer though; it’s Charge. Great. That’s just great. How…? Did she track you down herself? And so quickly? The thought makes your heart seize. “What do you want, Charge?”

“I just…” Charge shields her eyes against the sun as she looks up at you. “I just want to talk. Is that okay? Can we talk?”

Dig your hands into the metal of the railing, feeling the heat of the black paint against your hands, dulled by the skinsuit. “I said I was sorry.”

Charge gestures something, you’re not sure how to read it. “What are you sorry for?”

You take a breath to respond but no words come to mind.

“Do you mind coming down so we don’t have to yell?”

You pull at the railing, run through the scenarios in your head. Swallowing down fear you let go of the railing and climb down the ladder. When Charge approaches you shy back against the wall of the building. “Well? Talk.”

Charge doesn’t respond right away. There’s a pained look in her eyes as she looks at you and you have to look away, focus on something else like the gum ground into the cement. “Are you okay?” She asks.

“Of course I am.”

“You’re not acting like it.”

“I’m _fine_.” You insist. “Sorry for ruining things. It was… unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”

Charge is still looking at you like she wants to touch you. “That’s not– fine.” She sighs. “I’m glad you’re okay. But… if you ever want to, you know… talk about it, Anathema and I would both be willing to listen.”

You let the silence hang there, silently wishing she’d leave. That your powers would work on her so you could make her leave. Or better, forget this ever happened.

“I…” Charge winces, like she’s just swallowed something painful. “I know what it’s like, okay?”

You stare at her, taken aback. She’s not anything like you, she’s human after all. What is she talking about? But in the moment, even in uniform, Charge doesn’t look anything like the smug superstar hamming it up for the news. Ortega looks… weirdly vulnerable.

“Don’t– don’t think of yourself that way, okay?” The tension in her body creates a few errant sparks from her emitters, running up her arms. If they hurt, she doesn’t show it. “You don’t… _deserve_ to be hit, okay?” She’s obviously restraining herself, but she has her arm outstretched to you.

You stare at her hand. At her face. You feel… you don’t know what you feel. You don’t know what you feel a lot lately. You want to blame the hormones. They’ve been swinging your emotional state all over the place as you trial and error your way to a ‘correct’ dose. That’s… that’s all this is, nothing else. Just medication messing you up. In fact. This is great. Maybe now you won’t have to field any more questions about your past.

“Okay.” You say. You take Ortega’s hand and there’s a small jolt of static electricity, not enough to hurt. She grips your hand back and smiles at you.


End file.
